Bending the Rules
by Talon Marlow
Summary: "Dick, what is it?  Why aren't you in bed?" His voice was breathy.  He couldn't imagine what he looked like, clothes askew and red lipstick smudged across his face.
1. Chapter 1

Selina and Dick are dangerous. Bruce can't remember who he is when they're around.

**Warnings:** Non-explicit sexual situation. Kids knowing more than their guardians think they should. Superhero inebriation.

**Continuity:** In whatever universe this story takes place, Bruce and Selina know about each other's alter egos when Dick Grayson is still very young. The rules, I bend them. This will likely be two chapters. I am more inclined to update when I get reviews, not even gonna lie.

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><p>"Ow! For God's sake, Bruce." Selina shoved him away and hopped on one stiletto-clad foot, rubbing her opposite ankle. A picture frame fell off the dresser Bruce had just backed her into, landing safely on the carpet below.<p>

"Sorry," Bruce said in a rush, moving toward her again. He reached for her waist, leaned in toward her lips.

She held out a hand to keep him at bay and plopped down on the carpet, giving her ankle a closer examination. "It never fails to surprise me," she said with a touch of amusement, slipping off her heel and rubbing her foot, "how clumsy you can be in the bedroom. All things considered, I expect an impressive performance."

Her scarlet lips quirked up at him, and her green eyes shone with mischief. Bruce joined her on the carpet, taking her injured leg and putting his lips on the bruised ankle. "It's all part of maintaining a ruse," he murmured, trailing kisses up the silky shin. "I can't have you suspecting anything."

She laughed loudly. "There's a convenient excuse." She laughed again, leaning her weight back on her arms, her smile too wide, her eyes watery as they reflected the overhead lights. God, they were both so drunk.

Bruce never drank. Bruce never took home known criminals and accidentally injured them in his attempt to bed them. Then Selina Kyle would show up at whatever ridiculous gala he was forced to attend, a slit in her fitted black dress almost up to her hip, and he was all billionaire playboy. He'd seen her and wanted her again. Two bottles of wine later- "Oh come on, Bruce. If you can't have a little fun once in awhile, I'll go find someone else who will."- and he absolutely had to have her.

He pulled her arms from under her, pushed her down against the floor with his own body. His fingers grazed the exposed skin under the slit of the dress while he plundered her mouth with his own. Their kiss was sloppy. She tasted like chardonnay and crime.

After a moment, she was pushing against him. "You're too heavy." She said the same thing every time. She didn't like to be on bottom. He knew it had nothing to do with his weight.

He lifted his head and gazed at her, her cropped raven hair splayed like an inkblot against the taupe carpet. She nudged him again, tried to roll him off.

"We have to stop doing this," he said, and he settled back atop her, not letting her escape. He seized her lips again. She moaned a protest against his mouth, and he decided she deserved to suffer a little for stripping him of his reason. "You have to stop doing this to me."

She turned her head aside, freeing her lips from his. "Then throw me in jail, incorruptible crimefighter," she breathed. Her sharp eyes cut back to him, watching for his reaction. "You could end it anytime you wanted."

He eased off her and sat on his knees. She stayed where she was, arms and hair and endless legs sprawled out on his bedroom floor, eyes that knew far too much about him sizing him up.

When he didn't say anything, she sat up and took his hands. "I'm sorry," she said, and the kiss she gave him was softer, slower than before. He allowed her to coax him into standing, to lead him lip-locked to his own bed. The backs of his knees struck the frame and they toppled onto the mattress together.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Selina told him again. She straddled him and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Not for anything else."

"I know you aren't," he ground between his teeth, and he grabbed the flimsy material of the dress, ripping the slit clean up to her waist.

She hissed and popped his hand away. Her lips pursed as she examined the ruined garment. "You're paying for that." And their movements became ferocious then, buttons raining down onto the burgundy blankets, her red nails scratching his arms, his hands bruising her waist. They were going fast. They kept rolling each other over, both fighting to be on top.

"Bruce," someone said, and it wasn't Selina, and the voice was right there in his bedroom. He threw her roughly off him and sat up with a jolt. She followed suit, gasping for air.

A little boy stood on the center rug, dark hair matted and blue eyes wary as he surveyed the scene before him. Bruce had never even heard the door open, but it still stood ajar. God, Selina undid him in every way. "Dick, what is it? Why aren't you in bed?" His voice was breathy. He couldn't imagine what he looked like, clothes askew and red lipstick smudged across his face.

Dick held his hands over his stomach. "I don't feel good," he said. He looked at Selina where she sat on the rumpled bed, frozen as if she were made of marble. "What are you doing in here?"


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce sighed and stood, hastening to straighten his clothes. The boy would get sick on one of the rare weekends Alfred was out of town. He vaguely remembered coming in from the gala with Selina on his arm, both of them laughing too often and too loud. Bruce had paid the babysitter as she told him Dick was asleep, as she had looked at him with shrewd eyes that made it clear she thought he was the worst excuse for a father in the world. She'd left and Selina had laughed again- everything was funny. It didn't bother him an hour ago, but it did now.

He tried to avoid the child's question and knelt beside him, feeling his forehead with the back on one hand. "Are you sick?"

Dick nodded and leaned against him. "My stomach hurts. I wish Alfred would come home."

That statement made Bruce's stomach hurt. It had been a little over a year since Dick had come to live with them at Wayne Manor, and Bruce had tried to bond with him. But it was clear that Alfred was still the boy's primary source of comfort. For a selfish moment, Bruce wished it could be him. "He'll be home on Monday," he said as he stood, starting to guide Dick from the room with one hand on his back. "Let's go downstairs and see what we can find to make you feel better."

Whatever discomfort Dick was suffering, it wasn't quite enough to stifle his curiosity about the situation in Bruce's room. He resisted Bruce's effort to urge him out into the hall. Dick looked at Selina again, and Bruce could see his mind working as he tried to sort it out. He was nine, but he wasn't naïve.

His little face grew stern as he looked up at Bruce. He folded his arms. "You're not supposed to have sex before you're married."

There was a beat as both Bruce and Selina gaped at him. Bruce was shocked, mortified, furious- a gamut of emotions flooded him in the space of two seconds. But Selina threw her head back and laughed, laughed so hard she toppled onto her back on the bed.

"Oh God, he's cute," she breathed in her mirth. "That's too much."

"It isn't funny," Bruce growled. He didn't appreciate being lectured by a child, especially not for a tryst that burdened him with plenty of guilt already. "That was inappropriate, young man. Now come with me." He took his arm and started leading him again, not caring how Selina would occupy herself in his absence.

Dick tugged away once more, his bare feet skidding on the carpet. "But Bruce, that's what my mom told me." He looked between the two disheveled adults again, and between his confusion, his illness, and his memory of his mother, the little boy looked like he might start crying. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, and his head fell toward his chest.

"It's okay," Bruce said. "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying!" Dick yelled, head snapping up. Great, now Bruce had embarrassed him. Why couldn't he find the right words to say around this child? How could a nine-year-old boy and a petite woman make him lose his all of his unshakable confidence, render him into a clumsy, awkward shade of the stalwart persona he considered his true self? He imagined Batman standing before him, shaking his cowled head at a drunken, stammering Bruce Wayne.

"Let's all calm down," Selina advised as she rose from the bed. She walked over to Bruce and Dick, smiling down upon the younger. Dick was all eyes as he roved her form, his gaze lingering on the area exposed by the torn dress.

"Hi," he finally said, still staring her up and down. "I'm Dick. I live here."

"I've heard," she said. She touched him under the chin and urged his eyes upward to meet her own. "I'm Selina. Nice to meet you."

"Selina Kyle?" The boy asked, brow furrowed, and Bruce wondered where he'd heard the full name. He didn't talk about her much to Dick or anyone else.

Selina nodded.

Dick's subsequent gasp was quite dramatic. He took a step backward, looking between the two adults in bewilderment. "Bruce!" he said urgently, motioning for his guardian to come down to his level and receive a secret. Bruce obliged, and Dick whispered near his ear, "Don't you remember? Selina Kyle is Catwoman!"

Dick had not been very quiet despite his efforts, and Selina nearly doubled over with laughter when he made his pronouncement. "So cute," she said again. "I could just take him home with me."

Dick gave her a menacing scowl. He must have thought himself intimidating in his puppy dog pajamas. "You won't take me anywhere, thief."

Bruce stood back to his full height, eyes closed in frustration. Dick sometimes lingered over his shoulder while he worked in the cave, and he must have seen her file in the computer. The situation continued to spiral out of his control.

Selina wouldn't stop laughing. "You're obnoxious when you drink," Bruce told her.

"And you're easy when you drink," she retorted.

"Drink what?" Dick gasped again as the realization dawned. "Bruce, did you drink alcohol? And did you already know she's Catwoman? Why were you kissing her? Why didn-"

"Enough!" Bruce thundered. The questions stopped, Selina's giggling stopped, and the room was silent.

Dick's wide eyes welled with betrayal as he regarded Bruce, and his lip trembled. He turned and fled the room.

"Oh, Bruce," Selina said. She shook her head at him. "He's just a little boy."

Being scolded by Selina was just too much, especially since it was all her fault by his estimation. Bruce found his wallet on the dresser and counted out enough money to pay for her dress and a cab ride home. He took her by the arm and roughly ushered her into the hallway, shoving the bills into her hand. "Leave."

She mistook the gesture entirely. Her eyes blew open when she looked at the money, and faster than he could think in his inebriated state, she slapped him hard across the face. He reeled back with a groan.

"I don't know what you're on sometimes," she seethed, hurling the crumpled bills back at him. They littered the floor around his feet. "You think you can pay me for a romp and then throw me out in the street? You're a sick man, Bruce Wayne, and I should-"

"It's for your dress," he explained. "Please, just go. I have to deal with this." He gestured down the hall where Dick had scampered away.

"Oh." Her face softened. She touched his cheek where she had slapped him, then kissed the reddening spot. "Just be honest with him. If you weren't so cold to him, he might warm up to you more. And give him some ginger ale for his stomach."

He removed her hand from his face and stepped away from her. "Goodnight, Selina."

She sighed, but the amusement had returned to her eyes. "Goodnight, Bruce. Thank you for a lovely evening." She left the money on the floor and sauntered down the hall. He watched her hips sway until she was out of sight, and he set off in the opposite direction to console his young ward.

Dick had returned to his own bedroom, and he was balled up in the middle of his blue blankets, sobbing into his pillow. Bruce hesitated, then knocked against the open door to announce his presence. Dick choked as he sat up, brushing the tears from his face. He hugged his pillow to his chest and watched Bruce in reproachful silence.

"Hey, Dick," Bruce said, stepping into the room. He stopped a few feet from the boy, feeling large and awkward in his own body. He suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands. "I'm sorry for yelling."

Dick nodded with a sniff. Bruce hoped for a moment that the child would forgive him, would tell him he felt better now and go back to sleep, and that would be the end of it. "I want to go home," Dick said instead, and his face crumpled.

Bruce understood what he meant, because Dick had said it before when upset_. I want to go home. _Wayne Manor wasn't home for him, not really. Home was the circus, home was his mom and dad, not this big, cold mansion and its unapproachable master. The little boy trembled and buried his face against the pillow in his arms.

Bruce sat down beside him and pulled him against his chest. "You are home," he said.

Dick resisted at first, then deflated against him. "I want my mom and dad," he said between sobs. "I want Alfred."

_I want everyone except you_, Bruce heard. He rubbed circles against the boy's back, his hands still feeling clumsy and too big. He endeavored to make them gentle anyway, an attribute by which they were rarely described. He could think of nothing to say about Dick's grief- it was too much like his own, and he was ashamed to be thinking of himself while a child cried in his arms. He desperately wished Alfred were home, too.

"My stomach still hurts," Dick whimpered amongst his other complaints.

Selina's advice echoed in Bruce's head. "Would you like some ginger ale?" he offered, his voice almost too eager. Ginger ale was easy. He could provide that if nothing else.

Dick's sobs tapered off, and he sat up straight, edging out of Bruce's grasp. He scrubbed at his face with one pajama-covered arm. "Yes, please."

Bruce felt a wave of relief. Yes, he could handle ginger ale. "Alright. Let's go down to the kitchen."

They sat together at the breakfast table a few minutes later, both with glasses of clear, bubbly soda in front of them. Bruce's earlier indulgence in wine was beginning to leave him uneasy, so the ginger ale was a comfort to him, too. He had presence of mind to also find some plain crackers for Dick, and the little boy seemed to be recovering as he consumed them. He grew a little more lively, a little more inclined to chat.

"So, you like kissing Catwoman?" Dick asked, and Bruce groaned.

"It's complicated," he said, and then he remembered Selina telling him to be honest. He considered the little boy, how perceptive he was, how he often reached out to Bruce only to be shut out. "Yes, I like kissing her," Bruce admitted at last. It sounded silly, and it felt inappropriate to share with Dick. But it was true.

"She's bad, Bruce," Dick said, but he had brightened considerably at the confession. He leaned in closer, looked around the room even though they were alone. "I've kissed a bad girl before."

Bruce took a big gulp of ginger ale to keep himself from laughing. "Oh? I didn't know you had kissed any girls at all."

"I have tons of girlfriends," Dick said with a wave of his hand. Bruce wondered if he should be concerned about that statement, but Dick carried on as if it weren't anything unusual. "Anyway, one of my girlfriends, she was bad. She stole pencils from the closet at school."

"Oh no," Bruce said, feigning suspense.

"Yep. Well, one day I tried to take the pencils she stole and put them back, and Ms. McClarkson caught me. She didn't believe me, and we both got detention for it." He drained the rest of his glass, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "So you have to be careful, or bad girls will get you in trouble with them."

As much as the story amused Bruce, he could see his own potential danger at the heart of it. He wondered what Dick would say if he knew Selina suggested the ginger ale.

The boy's eyes were drooping. Bruce finished his drink and stood. "Time to go back to bed," he said.

"We could watch a movie," Dick suggested instead, and Bruce didn't have the heart to turn him down, not after having a rare moment of connection with him.

"Okay, but a short one. Let me clean up first." He cleared away the crackers and glasses, his back to Dick as he stood at the sink washing them. He spoke over his shoulder. "I know we haven't spent much time together lately, Dick. How about we visit the zoo tomorrow? They have Siberian tigers like you've been studying in biology. And there might even be a-"

When he turned around, Dick was fast asleep with his head on the table. It made Bruce smile. It made him feel sober.

He picked him up, supported his head against his shoulder. Bruce's hands were just the right size to carry the boy back upstairs and nestle him safely into bed.


End file.
